Some day
by starshine
Summary: He wondered why he was simply sitting there, staring at his hands. Why wasn t he moving, trying to save her, trying to save himself. He wondered a lot of stupid things, but it was just his mind recoiling from the present. Incident aftermath. Skate/Suliet


My personal take on Sawyer´s reaction after Juliet´s fall. Hope both Skate and Suliet fans will find this tasteful. Enjoy!

Some day

He got in trouble with some people once. He was nineteen, and it was dark, and rain was pouring down on the dingy parking lot, hitting against his face while red and blue lights flashed in the background. It had been his first taste of what real, deep, adult trouble was. Before that, there had been drunken fights, trivial scams, lots of pick-pocketing and many death wishes. It was only fair that real trouble should taste like blood, he remembered thinking. Blood and fear, and the helplessness that came from having his arms held behind his back and someone´s fist coming down once, and again, and again, until he gave up trying to stand and they got tired of holding him. The asphalt had been was rough and only a little wet, the first fat drops of rain hitting it lazily. One drop got into his eye, and he blinked it out in time to see a pair of boots stepping out of the circle that surrounded him. Then the kicks started, and everything tasted just like nothingness after a while.

He did not really remember waking up at the parking lot, but rather at some clinic, but he remembered a girl standing over him in the rain. A woman, not a girl. A paramedic. She shook him hard but it hurt too much to care, so she shook him again and slapped his face demanding to know what his name was, and how old he was, and if he remembered his home address or his phone number or anything at all. Name and home, he did not want to think about, but she kept on hurting him until he was angry enough to acknowledge her and open his eyes. Then she leaned very close and all of a sudden looked like she might actually care.

– You have to look at me. Stay with me – she ordered him very low and very sweet –. I know how much it hurts, but don´t go away. Just stay with me, and I will make it all better.

He never got to remember much more, but he remembered her face and her demand that he care. The night had been so black with anguish and the air so thick with coppery smell of blood that he really did not want to give it a try. Her hands were on him, checking and probing, and the world was full of pain – his fault anyway, his own doing, so why should he get a reward? So he closed his eyes, smiled grimly and wondered idly why he should even believe her promise.

And now the sun was bright, a little too bright, the way it was always on the island. He wondered if they noticed it more, having just come from the mainland. He wondered why he was thinking of being nineteen now, and why he was kneeling on the jungle floor, damp and cool the way it was always damp and cool in the jungle. He wondered why he was simply sitting there, staring at his hands. Why wasn´t he moving, trying to do something, trying to save her, trying to save himself. He wondered a lot of other stupid things, but it was just his mind recoiling from the present.

His hands were all dirty – _bloody_ – and covered in cuts. She would give him a telling off when she finished fixing it, he thought before reconsidering any idea of thinking. It was too late, though. The blank, arrested, emotionless contemplation of scenes of past and crushed metal beans came to an end. A soaring pain swung back with full force and he doubled over, unable be keep breathing. He had let her go. He had let her fall. He had let her down when he had meant to protect her from everything – even if that meant protecting her from one bitter truth about himself. She had seen through him almost instantly. He should have owned up, but he had sidestepped the issue. Instead of love, he swore another promise; one he had been sure he could keep. He would forever have her back...

_So sure._

– Look at me. Look at me, please.

He did not know there was such pain to be felt not from a physical wound, but just from grief and numbness. It had nothing to do with having bamboo sticks shoved under his nails, nothing to do with the beating from three hours and one lifetime ago. She had trusted him and he had strayed, and now the world was empty except for a pair of terrified eyes and a sweaty hand that wouldn´t stop sliding.

– I know how much it hurts, James.

It had been different when he had first felt something like this, three years ago. It had pierced him sharply and hopelessly, a wound that never really stopped throbbing, but he had an anchor then because he knew he had done right by Kate. He had done right for the first time in his life, and he saved her, and no matter how many sleepless nights went by he had no business wishing he´d been more selfish. There were no anchors in his mind now. Just sweaty, slippery hands, the smell of rusty iron while it bent, and words he knew by heart but did not want to remember. She was still screaming in his mind, she was still falling long minutes after her hand had left his. She would always be falling, and it would always be his fault, and he couldn´t do this, he couldn´t be alive right now, no fate could be this cruel.

- Talk to me. Look at me. Please.

There was a hand on his back. He half expected it to shake him, slap him, but it just lingered there, burning its mark on his skin. She would want to bring him back; she had done it before. She would ask him to hold onto her so that she could make it better, but he already knew how little all those promises could mean.

– Please, just say something.

So he didn´t, and after a while the hand was gone, the place it had been cold and empty. He almost turned his head in search of warmth, but then he remembered better. She was not some woman from his distant past. She was the one whose face he tried so hard to keep forgotten, whose face he ended gazing longingly at anyway. He could never call her back now. Thoughts and wishes that were just wrong before, now became sick and tainted. Too many things had been destroyed in that white light, too many dilemmas answered in an extreme, ultimate way. He had grown to love Juliet too – in a domestic, subdued and caring sort of way, living in their nice house on their own prairie. He had betrayed so many people in his life that he had wanted nothing more than to stay true to her, to wipe out any warmth he felt from staring at Kate´s sadly smiling freckles. He should have known better; paybacks always hit where it would hurt the most.

The leaves on the jungle floor whispered a soft warning, and there were cool hands on his forehead, pushing wet locks of hair out of his eyes. She begged him to look at her, to be still, to give up fighting. She tried to hold him close but he resisted, knowing that would only make things worse.

– Hold on, James. You can. You will.

– Go away.

Her scorching touches that made everything way too painful. He shook his head against her strong, all-encompassing embrace, but she did not move. She did not seem to understand how wrong it was for him to even wish that she remained near. He pushed her back, tired and angry, but strength and anger would never be enough to make her stay away. Gentle trembling fingers caressed his head and he realised that she was crying too, broken too. That she would never listen to his words, and try to read his mind instead.

– You can hold onto me, you know that – she whispered, ever so softly –. Let me in. I can make it better, if you let me.

The island sun was shining bright, but somewhere – in the future or in the past –, fat heavy drops were hitting on a parking lot. Ha had almost bled to death from a pierced lung once, and now he was bleeding again from a shattered soul. But here, now, was different. Because he never cared to believe before, but he knew that some day, he would believe this promise.


End file.
